


White Leather

by justinlovesart



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-19
Updated: 2010-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justinlovesart/pseuds/justinlovesart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gapfiller for episode 501. Fully canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Leather

Justin stepped out of the store into the unseasonal warmth of a West Hollywood afternoon. He looked down at the bag in his hand, at the glossy design of the high street brand. It was a moment that didn't quite fit into his routine: walking leisurely down the street with a thousand dollars worth of purchase was something that matched more Brian's self-perception than his own.

Brian would have topped it all by wearing his sunglasses, to underline his elegant indifference to the world. Perhaps, if Justin had been there, he would have put his arm around him.

But shades weren't for Justin, despite the harsh California light.

Nevertheless, he started to walk slowly and remarkably at ease among the well-dressed and tanned crowd, replaying what had just passed inside the store and trying to remember when, exactly, he'd begun to feel so comfortable, so confident even, moving through the world.

Had it begun in California or before? Was it when Brett had asked him to come back? When he and Michael had received their first Hollywood phone call? Or earlier, when he'd run around sticking defaced posters on Liberty Avenue, in that bitterly cold Pittsburgh winter.

He cringed, thinking how he'd stumbled into that same street only a few years earlier, trying so hard to hide his fear, his embarrassment, his sudden awareness that his clothes were all wrong.

"Special K indeed." He smiled, shaking his head at the boy he'd been. Then he looked up and noticed that some fellow shoppers were returning his smile.

He didn't look much older now, he knew that; but he also knew the feeling of belonging. Only a few minutes ago, he'd entered that store with an assuredness he used to think only movie stars and Brian Kinney could possess, and not one of the assistants had dared to intimidate him.

He'd tried on the white leather jacket, taking time to look at himself in the mirror, turning around several times, until he'd caught the approving eye of the assistant who had helped him.

"It's perfect." The man had said. "It looks as if it's made for you."

Justin had nodded, staring back at his own face and trying to imagine how others would see him.

"Can I help you with anything else?" Like many sale assistants in this city, this one had perfect white teeth that told of auditions between store and restaurant shifts, and the dream of a guest appearance.

Justin had looked around and walked towards the belt rack. He'd touched a simple brown leather one, wider than those he usually wore, with a large metal buckle. He'd thought of the sound it would make putting it on and taking it off. "I'll try this one," he'd said.

Now, as he stopped in front of several shop windows pretending to look inside, he realized that the best moment had been when the assistant-actor had swiped the credit card and Justin had known it would clear, and that it would be because of his own work. Because of that, he might have smiled more brightly than usual when he was handed his bag.

He deserved it, though, all of it. These months had been work, work, work, and missing Brian and mom and Daphne and everyone else.

But especially Brian, because even better than buying this perfectly fitting white leather jacket and the brown leather belt with its shiny metal buckle that sat right above his crotch, would have been doing all this with Brian by his side. He could just imagine Brian smirking over the shop assistant's shoulder while catching Justin's eye in the mirror; saying something like "And it was only yesterday when your shopping sprees were on my credit card," to show how proud he really was.

Surely, he would visit soon, as he'd hinted the previous night and many times before.

Justin was still walking, although by now he'd stopped paying attention to the people around him, focused as he was on thoughts of what would happen when he'd meet Brian at the airport, wearing his new white leather (he hoped it would be cool enough for that). Would Brian even mention it? Or just look him up and down in silence? Most likely, he would say something like "Hot" and make it sound as if it was both the least he'd expected of Justin and what he'd been dying to see for months.

Justin doubted he'd hear him say "You're beautiful."

He would drive Brian to Brett's guest house, and the drive would almost certainly be quiet; then he would open the door and casually throw the white jacket on a chair, offer Brian a glass of water, a drink, unable to finish his sentence because Brian would be all over him in seconds, lift his shirt and see the belt for the first time.

"What have we got here?" he'd whisper, and Justin would hold his breath. Then Brian would undo the buckle, making the metal clink, slide it off Justin's pants slowly and Justin would remember that sound for a long time.

These thoughts were still playing around his mind when Justin reached his car and he had to remind himself to stop dreaming; that Brian had not really promised he would come.

He threw the bag on the passenger seat and started to plan his evening: some work, because the sketches for Rage's lair were due soon; dinner at Brett's - he had "people" he wanted Justin to meet and the evening was too mild to stay in; read a little, perhaps (in a sentimental moment he'd actually bought Anna Karenina and wanted to surprise Brian with details next time they joked about their love for Russian literature); talk to Brian, if he got a hold him: tell him that he'd gone shopping, but there was still plenty of room for his drawers in Justin's drawers.

As the afternoon sun started to disperse into the sunset, he started his car and drove away.


End file.
